


Character Development in the Modern Marriage

by biggod



Series: Character Work [1]
Category: Community (TV), Mythic Quest: Raven's Banquet (TV)
Genre: Brad Bakshi - Referenced, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Roleplay, Teasing, abed roleplays as brad bakshi that's about it, adhd troy rights, delayed gratification, gratuitous descriptions of abed being hot, gratuitous use of the word husband bc gay rights, if you haven't seen mq be warned brad is an asshole, they are deeply in love and troy is such a bottom, troy is a disaster the whole time, you don't have to watch mythic quest to read but it doesn't hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25917895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biggod/pseuds/biggod
Summary: Troy creates a character for Abed to get him through an unpleasant task. The problem is, Abed is really good at it.or, the one where Abed sort of roleplays as Brad Bakshi.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Series: Character Work [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1919905
Comments: 29
Kudos: 247





	Character Development in the Modern Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> this whole fic is based off of this photo:  
> https://pmcvariety.files.wordpress.com/2020/03/mythic-quest.jpg?w=600  
> and the concept that Troy would lose his mind if he saw Abed looking like that.
> 
> huge, enormous, gigantic thanks to the lovely @revelationtour and @erce3, who both beta'd (aka, saved this whole fic), as well as jeremy and the rest of the server for the encouragement. you guys are amazing!
> 
> go read all their fics!
> 
> go!

“Troy,” Abed says, and he seems outwardly unaffected, but there’s a nearly imperceptible strain in his voice that makes Troy grin. Troy continues to mouth along Abed’s throat, noses under his jaw, gently runs his fingers through the dark curls at the base of Abed’s neck. They’re a little longer than usual; he tends to let it grow during long filming periods when he’s too busy to care, and Troy _loves_ it.

“Troy,” he says again. Troy begrudgingly pulls back with a light grumble, though his hand remains buried in that soft, gloriously messy hair. He fixes Abed with his best Disney eyes, second in impact only to Annie’s.

“Stop that,” Abed says immediately, “That’s not fair.”

“Make me,” he smiles, and leans in for a slow, lingering kiss. Abed’s arms tighten around his waist despite himself. Troy’s free hand slides down to grip Abed’s ass, and Abed reluctantly pulls away with a groan.

“I don’t have time, Troy. I have that... stupid photoshoot," Abed says, his tone unnaturally dismissive. His face twists as he tries to sound more sincere. "I need to leave in ten minutes."

Troy sighs. Abed's two-month departure for on-location filming was tough on Troy, and he couldn't help but feel handsy after finally having Abed return home the night before. But he takes a deep breath and meets Abed’s wide brown eyes - _gentle and mysterious_ \- and he’s hit with a rush of affection and pride as he remembers why they’ve been apart in the first place. He presses another kiss to Abed’s lips, sweeter this time.

“It’s not stupid,” he says. “Celebrating your success isn’t stupid.”

“Doing it with styled photography is,” Abed replies, with no bite to it.

“You need photos for magazines,” Troy points out. “That’s how they lure people like me into reading them.”

“It’s out of my genre, Troy. I don’t know how to be photographed for magazines. This would make more sense for Jeff’s character arc than mine.”

Troy isn’t oblivious to the undercurrent of anxiety in Abed’s voice, the tension in the line of his shoulders. The idea of being the subject of a photoshoot is less than comfortable for him; he only reluctantly agreed to it after his agent convinced him it would do a lot towards publicity for his upcoming film. Troy runs his palm along Abed’s lower back soothingly.

“You could do it as someone else,” he muses, scratching ever-so-lightly at Abed’s scalp. “Someone whose character arc would fit.”

Abed tilts his head towards the ceiling (leaning slightly into the touch in the process, which Troy finds adorable) and quirks his brow, considering.

“Like who?”

“Not sure exactly,” Troy says, purposely trying to create a vague personality to allow Abed flexibility once he’s in character. “Someone confident and wildly successful, who knows how to get what he wants. And he’s very sexy.”

Troy fiddles with the collar of Abed’s t-shirt; he feels eyes on him, and looks up to watch a fleeting expression of unabashed warmth and devotion flit across Abed’s face before he schools his features back into careful deliberation.

“Intriguing,” Abed says. “He doesn’t sound too dissimilar from how you describe me, though.” 

“You’re right.” Troy purses his lips and squints while he thinks. “Okay. He’s a little mean, too.”

“He’s _mean?_ ”

“Not to anybody working for him,” he adds hastily, before being momentarily consumed by the mental image he’s creating. “Mmm. Yeah. He’s _secretly_ mean. Manipulative.” He presses his body closer to Abed, who is watching him with a distantly amused expression. “And commanding.”

“Did you rewatch Mad Men while I was gone?”

“Preposterous,” Troy scoffs, unbelievably. “Besides, this dude is different from your Don Draper. He’s more controlling, less cigarettes.”

“I see.” Abed’s fingers twitch; Troy can see the wheels begin to turn in his mind. “He’s the kind of person who cares about power. Manipulating people and situations for his own benefit. Maybe he’s a politician, or a corporate asshole.”

“Yeah,” Troy says. “Exactly. Does that feel comfortable for you, or would you rather go for a naive, young, breakout star situation?”

Abed pauses, looking at the ceiling as he thinks. His eyes shift down to scrutinize Troy’s face for a moment, and his mouth curves into a wry half-smile. He nods.

“I can do ‘corporate asshole.’”

“Cool.”

“Cool, cool, cool.”

Troy loosens his arm around Abed, expecting him to pull away and get ready, but Abed doesn’t move. Troy seeks out his gaze and finds a touch of doubt there still.

“How about I go with you?” he suggests encouragingly. “We’ve got that dinner tonight; we could just head straight there from the studio.”

Abed nods immediately, his shoulders relaxing a touch. “Yeah.”

“Sounds good,” Troy says with a smile. Abed moves away towards the closet. Troy glances around the bedroom floor for his shoes. “What are you wearing for it?”

“They told me to wear whatever, they’re going to style me there.” Abed’s voice is muffled as he digs for his favorite cardigan in the closet. Troy steps up behind Abed and reaches around him slowly in a gratuitous grab for his nice-ish jacket, breaking out in an infectious grin when Abed raises a brow at his antics.

“Can’t wait to see what they put you in,” he says, and goes to find his shoes in the living room.

\---

Troy might have bitten off more than he could chew here.

They meet up with Abed’s agent, Stephanie, outside the studio - a modern concrete building with impossibly high ceilings and a wall of windows - and she guides them to the photographer, who is very nice and _very_ enthusiastic. Abed is quickly whisked away to get dressed, while Steph takes a call that sounds too boring to listen in on, so Troy is left watching the photographer adjust the lighting and wondering how you install windows that huge without breaking the glass. The whole affair has a very sleek business-casual atmosphere to it that doesn’t feel like Abed at all.

Troy abandons contemplating the windows in favor of playing Candy Crush on his phone within a couple of minutes, and he becomes so engrossed that he doesn’t look up until he hears Stephanie over his shoulder calling, “Wow, looking good!”

Abed had disappeared with the stylist, but the person who comes back out is someone else. He’s wearing an unquestionably expensive blue sweater with a gray button up underneath, a stunning color combination against his skin. His curls are artfully tousled into a stylishly messy halo that would make Jeff proud. He carries himself with a powerful aura and a confident smirk; his hands are tucked in the pockets of his grey fitted trousers and when he talks, he bares teeth. He’s absolutely captivating.

“Oh shit,” Troy breathes.

“What did you say to him?” Stephanie asks, appearing at his elbow to force him from his reverie, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. 

He looks at her somewhat dumbly.

“Oh, come on,” she says, “We both know he wasn’t looking forward to this, and he’s got a whole… other vibe... happening right now. How did you get him feeling so confident?”

“Uh,” he says, eloquently, watching intently where the cameras capture Abed half-sitting on a black stool.

Troy wants to tell her he encouraged him the way a good spouse does, that he helps Abed feel more comfortable in the world he lives in and that in return, Abed makes Troy’s world one thousand percent better, that their marriage is based upon helping each other through the things they don’t know how to handle.

Troy points in Abed’s direction, wanting to say all of this.

What comes out instead is: “H- husband.”

She stares at him for a moment, pats him on the shoulder and laughs.

“Okay, bud. I’ll let you have a minute.” She walks away. He hardly notices.

Amidst the flashes and shutter clicks, Abed slowly turns his head away from the photographer and fixes his gaze on Troy, frozen across the room. His eyes are calculating and his smile feels predatory. The moment is fleeting, no more than a few seconds, and then he’s turning back to the cameras with more sincerity.

Troy is sure he’s been hard in less convenient situations, but it’s hard to think what they could have been with all his blood rushing southward. He hunches over his phone and takes a video of Abed to send Annie. She texts back immediately:

_annie <3, 5:19pm _

_Oh damn! You’re toast, aren’t you?_

\---

“Great job!” Stephanie approaches Abed once the photographer has called the shoot. “You made it through, and it’s going to look awesome.”

“I’m glad it’s over, but it wasn’t that bad,” he says, and he notices she’s observing him with a hint of critical interest. She’s smart enough to notice that he’s behaving differently. “Not that I want to do it again any time soon, mind you.” He looks at her pointedly.

“No worries,” she laughs. “I promised these guys the exclusive, so I won’t make you do this again till the next promotional campaign.”

“Cool.”

“I’m gonna head out if you’re good,” she says, glancing at her phone. “I’ve got a fuck ton of paperwork.”

He nods, and she gives him a small wave, lifting her phone to her ear. A couple of steps away, she stops and says, “Oh, Abed? Pretty sure you broke Troy. He was basically in shock when I left him last.”

Steph grins and walks away. Abed processes this with a 'hmph', and looks across the room to Troy.

Troy is hunching forward suspiciously, elbows resting uncomfortably on his thighs, face resting smushed into one of his palms. His foot taps an uneven rhythm on the concrete. His eyes are wide and unfocused, lips parted slightly, and he’s fiddling with his jacket zipper. Two things are obvious to Abed: Troy is aroused, and Troy is fucking beautiful.

Abed returns to the prep area, where the stylist is waiting with his belongings.

“Hey, Paula,” he says, “However much these clothes cost, I’ll write you a check for triple if you let me walk out of here in this.”

“Wow.” She looks at him dubiously. “You like it that much?”

“My husband does. He looks like he’s going to pass out. I’m doing this for love.”

“Say no more.” Paula’s eyes gleam as she turns to the clothing rack. “I’ll throw in the red sweater, too.”

\---

_troy, 5:56pm_

_what do i do annie i have to go somewhere after this_

Abed is taking what feels like a long time to get changed.

Troy is struggling. He was never any good at directing his own focus; he rarely completed assigned reading in college, but he can marathon Inspector Spacetime for days if he’s in the mood. Currently he is begging his mind to think of anything other than dragging Abed straight home and giving him the blowjob of his life.

_annie <3, 5:57pm _

_But the shoot is over, right? Normal Abed will calm you down._

_troy, 5:57pm_

_you’re right. i can do this_

There’s a polite cough to his left, and he glances up to see Abed, _looking exactly the same_ , waiting with that same arrogant smirk as before. Troy gapes up at him gracelessly for a moment before he tries to cover, clearing his throat and awkwardly throwing an arm over the back of his chair.

“Uhh, hey, Abed, it looked like it went really--”

“Let’s go,” he interrupts dismissively, in a low tone that leaves no room for argument. Troy gulps and stands. As they head for the exit, Abed’s hand comes to rest lightly on Troy’s lower back, and Troy has to inwardly chant _get your shit together Barnes keep it together_ on a loop until they make it to the car. Abed uncharacteristically takes the driver’s seat.

Troy swallows thickly as he buckles his seatbelt, risking a peek at Abed. He has to restrain himself from slack-jawed staring. Abed’s entire manner, all of his movements and tics, down to the way he _breathes_ \- it’s all different. He’s gone full immersive. He hasn’t done that in a good while, and rarely with a totally unfamiliar character, Troy realizes with a thrill. Abed’s experimenting.

And looking damn good while doing it. Troy wants to reach out and touch the sweater, to see if it’s really as soft as he knows it must be; he wants to trace the lines cast on Abed’s face by the late afternoon sun, to kiss his nose scar, his freckles, his temple where a stray curl rests; he wants to marvel, openly and forever, at how impossibly beautiful Abed is and has always been and will always be.

Normally, Abed would have looked back at him by now with his soulful doe eyes, said _you’re staring at me_ but as an observation, not a complaint. He hasn’t done that. He’s easing the car onto the highway and wait, when did they start moving?

“So,” Troy says abruptly, panicking once he realizes he has no idea what he wants to say. He flounders for a moment, almost thinks he has something, and then gets distracted by the subtle grid pattern on Abed’s surprisingly well-tailored pants.

“Well, what is it?”

Normally Abed lets him take his time, or not finish his sentence at all, if that’s what he needs. This isn’t Abed though, and the authoritative tone has Troy realizing his mouth is very, very dry. He takes a quick breath.

“Uh. The clothes. They let you keep ‘em?” His voice cracks slightly on the last syllable, and he winces. _Get your shit together Barnes so help me--_

“I wanted them. I got them. I get the things I want, Troy.” He’s smirking again, the gorgeous bastard, and Troy _really_ wants to fight him and lose.

“Cool,” he says instead, looking straight ahead at the LA traffic and clenching his jaw. He must be fidgeting, because--

“Stop bouncing your leg.”

Troy’s knee stills automatically.

“Good.”

The simple praise shoots through him like a lightning bolt. Troy actually makes an involuntary squeak, and it’s embarrassing as hell. He doesn’t need to look over at the driver’s seat - he can feel the smugness rolling off of Abed from here.

Troy is not a patient man when he’s aroused. He can only take so much before he gets desperate; usually Abed indulges him, but it isn’t unusual for him to make Troy wait on the principle of delayed gratification. It’s mercifully never very long, typically ten or fifteen minutes max, but they’ve passed that mark and Troy’s resolve is wearing thin. He’s beginning to question if he’s the kind of person to pull off onto the freeway shoulder and fuck in the backseat.

He doesn’t look at Abed. If he looks at Abed, practically glowing in the golden hour sunlight, he will break, and do something stupid or embarrassing. The pressure in his jeans is becoming difficult to ignore. So he looks pointedly forward when he speaks, and his voice is a little steadier than he expects, which he’s kind of proud about.

“Hey man, you wanna go home? This Hawthorne dinner isn’t that important.”

“Nonsense,” Abed says, and Troy fights back a frustrated whine.

“Really, it’s just a formality they invite me to these. I don’t do anything at them--”

“Nah, don’t be ridiculous! We’re going.” The tone is casual, but the words have a firm bite to them. Troy could scream (actually, he’d _love_ to be screaming right now)--

“Come on, you’ve made your point,” he says, dismayed when it comes out less assertive and more petulant than he wants it to.

Abed slams the brakes and throws the car into park, which doesn’t do much in terms of impact - they’re crawling through rush hour at maybe four miles per hour - but the aggression with which he does it surprises Troy enough that he turns to Abed, wide-eyed.

“I’ve made my point, have I?” His words are deceptively soft. It feels dangerous, which in turn feels thrilling. “What point is that?”

Troy opens his mouth and once again finds he doesn’t know what to say. He shuts it again.

There’s a pause. Abed shifts to face Troy as much as he can.

“Troy,” he says, reaching a hand out to cup Troy’s cheek: and this is _his_ Abed. His mannerisms, his reassurance, his big brown eyes seeking out Troy’s. “Are you good with what we’re doing here?”

They have a good system in place for when a character or scene gets uncomfortable. Troy does his best to be careful and send Abed clear signals during times like this, to make sure Abed understands he’s enjoying himself, but he remembers that this is new territory for them both, a new dynamic, and they’re making it up as they go. There aren’t many places this can end that don’t involve Abed taking control, and Abed will not go any further without Troy’s permission; he’s horrified by the idea of hurting Troy, and for a moment, Troy thinks he might cry.

He leans his cheek into the touch, smiling gently, and nods. He reaches out and takes Abed’s left hand, drawing it close to his chest.

“I’m _really_ turned on, babe,” he laughs breathily. “Like, painfully, this is driving me crazy. But I’m also having an awesome time.” He lifts their hands and presses a kiss to Abed’s wedding ring, meeting his eyes. “And I trust you.”

Abed’s returning smile is more eye crinkles than curved lips, and it takes Troy’s breath away. Abed squeezes his hand.

“Okay,” he simply says.

They linger for a moment. A horn sounds behind them, though traffic has only barely moved, and then something must have flipped a switch, because Hot Asshole Abed is back and shifting the car into drive and Troy is forced to process the fact that he just chose to put himself at the mercy of Abed’s infinite patience.

Troy twists his hands together, rests them on his thighs as he fidgets. He’s trying not to bounce his legs.

“Hands out of your lap,” Abed demands. Troy drops one to grip the edge of his seat; the other makes a fist and holds it to his mouth. It does nothing to mask his strangled noise.

_troy, 6:19pm_

_annie i am so thoroughly fucked_

_annie <3, 6:21pm _

_I don’t need those details, Troy. Glad you’re having fun!_

\---

The restaurant is nice. It’s the kind of place that lets you smoke cigars inside and is too dark to comfortably read the menu, but you’re expected to know enough about Rich People Food that you shouldn’t need one anyway. Usually, he and Abed would make a game of inventing increasingly ridiculous dishes to ask the waiters for, like _seal confit_ or _kangaroo pouch souffle_.

These dinners are mostly for members of the board, the larger shareholders and a few other Hawthorne Wipes higher-ups. Troy tries to attend every now and again to make up for how utterly boring he finds the shareholders meetings. They do have a history of light hijinks and shenanigans here, but the board mostly seems to like him, seeing as they keep inviting him.

He realizes quite early on when he zones out while greeting the VP of Sales’ wife that he won’t be paying attention tonight either. The rest of the ride with Hot Mean Abed did nothing to calm him down, and the warm glow of the wall sconces is doing some nice things to his husband’s cheekbones. He’s kind of hoping that Abed is just pushing him a bit, that they’ll stay for one drink and then politely duck out early, but those hopes are dashed when Abed waves down the waiter and orders dinner for them both.

(They’ve had this waiter before. He looks surprised, and a touch suspicious, at the entirely normal order.)

Troy doesn’t hear what Abed orders for him. He’s watching his long, lithe fingers move expressively, picturing them wrapped tightly around his wrists, pinning him in place as Abed does whatever he wants, twining around his throat and squeezing and _jesus shit Troy you’re in public--_

Abed straightens, clears his throat subtly. Troy calls after the waiter, “Could I get a glass of water as well, please?”

The rest of the board arrives together from the LA office, and the table stands to say hello. Abed is leaning in behind him, that cool hand on the curve of his back again, and Troy is focusing so hard on not short-circuiting that his “How are you?” to Sue, Head of Marketing, is about an octave too high and twice as loud as it should be. She’s nice enough not to mention it.

“You’re overcompensating,” Abed murmurs lowly by his ear as she moves on. His breath tickles the nape of Troy’s neck. “Get your shit together.”

Abed swearing shouldn’t be hot. Abed acting like a wealthy asshole shouldn’t be hot. The problem is, it’s very hot, and Troy wishes for the hundredth time in so many minutes that he wasn’t so easily affected. He swallows tightly.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, I’ll be right back,” Troy forces out. Abed catches him by the elbow before he can move, leans in slightly.

“Don’t touch yourself,” he whispers. “I’ll know if you do.”

Troy grits his teeth and walks away.

\---

He paces the length of the bathroom - strangely, it’s better lit than the actual restaurant - and curses his past self for thinking he could handle this in public. This is maddening. He’s been halfway to hard going on two hours now with no end in sight, and his attempts to cool off and be a normal human person are being sabotaged by a rude, beautiful bastard with nice hands and soft hair and probably a god complex. He stops pacing abruptly, placing his hands on his knees and forcing deep breaths.

Troy has a number of things working against him. Abed in his most basic form is already irresistible to him, and again, Troy is not known for his patience; but now, with the added challenge of an alluring new character plus Troy’s pent up sexual frustration from Abed’s two month filming absence, he’s at a severe disadvantage and Abed knows it. Abed knows Troy far too well.

For a moment, he considers getting off in the bathroom so he can fake his way through the rest of the dinner. It wouldn’t take him long at this point. Maybe it’s his last chance to get himself under control, because the breathing exercise is not working and he’s still feeling sensitive. But then he remembers that Abed is right - he’ll be able to tell. Troy is inconveniently expressive.

He thinks back to the car. Abed wanted him to have the option to stop this, and he knows if he asked right now Abed would drop it immediately, ask what he needs. Troy was the one who chose to hand over control, and if he’s honest with himself it’s still what he wants. He did this to himself. Most importantly, he wants Abed to know that he trusts him.

“God _damn_ it, Barnes,” he mutters.

Troy stands up straight with a deep inhale, looks at the ceiling, releases a short but passionately frustrated scream, and straightens his jacket in the mirror. He gets an odd look from a passing server as he exits the bathroom.

When he takes his seat next to Abed, he feels his eyes on him. Troy doesn’t look at him, instead reaching for his water and taking a measured sip. After a moment, he feels rather than sees Abed smile next to him, and a hand lightly squeezes his knee under the table. Troy grips his glass harder.

“Good,” Abed says quietly, squeezing once more and withdrawing his hand. Troy chugs the rest of his water.

\---

For all their combined money, their house is small and nondescript by Hollywood terms. They prefer it that way. It’s comfortable, with a similar homey feel to the original Casa de Trobed, though it is a good deal less rundown. It’s undoubtedly home, and Troy loves it, but he’s never been quite so relieved to see it appear around the corner.

The dinner was a challenge. Every time Troy began to relax, Abed was there with a brush of the hand or an audacious word to whisper in his ear. 

The ride home, though, is excruciating. Troy makes an attempt at conversation to break the delicious but suffocating tension.

“So,” he starts, voice a bit pitchy, “You were talking to Rob for a while.”

“Yeah,” Abed says, “He kept talking about some higher-up in Red Dragon Wipes who got caught doing insider trading, but Rob just gave the details away like they were nothing. He could have used that.” He sighs like he’s disappointed in Rob. “I can’t figure that guy out.”

“‘Figure him out’?”

“Everyone’s got a motivation, Troy.” The glare of a street light flashes across Abed’s face as they pass. “Everyone.”

Troy clenches his fist, digs his nails into his palm, chants _don’t do it Troy I swear to god don’t you ask him_ in his mind. It doesn’t work. He clears his throat.

“What about you?”

Abed smiles.

He improvises a monologue about hoarding wealth and power, and it should be ridiculous, starting with DuckTales of all things, but, much like this whole scenario, ends up being surprisingly hot by the end. Troy takes a little comfort in the fact that he tied in a TV reference to his character; Abed seems to be winging this as much as he is.

Troy’s heartbeat picks up as they park. He doesn’t move immediately, staring at their yellow front stoop in a bit of a haze - all his thoughts from the last four hours are running uncontrollably rampant - until his passenger-side door opens, and he realizes Abed is looming above him.

“Are you coming or not?”

His voice is so smooth, it’s baffling. Abed's got one hand resting on the doorframe, and another tucked into his pocket, so when Troy shakes himself and stands, Abed has him cornered and his cocky expression is only inches away. His breath catches in his throat as Abed leans into his space.

Troy’s eyes slip shut as Abed’s nose brushes ever so lightly against his. Abed’s breath ghosts across his lips, and he braces himself for impact. This is going down right here in the driveway, apparently, because once it starts he doesn’t think he’ll be capable of stopping, and maybe they’ll have to move after tonight but Troy can live with that, it’s been hours and he _wants_ \--

“Alright!” Abed says cheerily, and Troy’s eyes jolt open. Abed’s moved a few steps away, looking calm and collected, and Troy feels like he understands what “emotional whiplash” means now. He allows himself a moment to gape at his husband’s utter audacity, and then reminds himself that he literally created this monster.

“I’m waiting patiently, but it’s a finite resource,” Abed says in a complex mix of casual and threatening, and Troy finally moves from the car towards their front door. He doesn’t get far before that hand is at his back yet again. He sucks in air and fumbles in his jacket for his keys. The only sounds are the evening crickets and the turning bolt in the door.

Troy steps into their home; he hears Abed quietly shut and lock the door behind him. He slouches out of his jacket and drops his keys in the bowl.

A hand grips his arm and suddenly he’s being spun around, pushed against the front door and pinned there immediately by Abed’s mouth against his. It’s messy and demanding, and Troy melts into it with a gratuitous moan. Abed’s hands drop to his waist; Troy winds his arms around his neck, both to hold him there and keep himself from dissolving into a useless puddle on the floor.

When Troy comes up for air, Abed drops character for a moment.

“You were zoning out outside, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Troy says, still catching his breath. “Got a little caught up in my head. I’m good now.”

“You’re sure?” Abed seeks out eye contact.

“Abed, if you don’t fuck me as soon as physically possible--”

Abed interrupts him again with a kiss, and Troy should probably be embarrassed about how many noises he’s making, but he’s pent up, sue him, and also it’s _Abed_ , and how could he ever be ashamed with Abed?

Abed breaks the kiss this time, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Okay,” he says, “But I need you to communicate with me. Deal?”

Troy nods. Abed steps in closer, slotting a knee between Troy’s thighs and earning a gasp for his trouble. He smiles, ducking his face down to kiss below Troy’s ear.

“Trail of clothes to the bedroom trope?” He tugs Troy’s earlobe delicately with his teeth.

“Actually.” It’s awfully mean to expect him to answer with a thigh pressing into the intersection of his jeans and Abed’s tongue doing _those things_ to his neck, but he gives it a valiant effort. “I, uh. I would-- _ahh_ \--”

Abed trails down to the junction of his neck and clavicle, worrying the skin with his teeth, soothing with his tongue, and finally pulling off with a soft _pop_. His lips are a bit pinker than usual, Troy’s dazed brain points out.

“You what?”

Abed studies him, eyes big and imploring, and Troy feels just as distracted and dizzy as he did a moment ago. He looks at Abed’s lips instead.

“I’d. Um. I’d like you to stay clothed.” Troy plays with the collar of Abed’s pressed shirt to distract himself. He knows Abed will indulge him, but asking can be difficult. “And I like the way you’ve been acting tonight. I’d like it if you were, uh, that guy. For a while.”

He finally meets Abed’s eyes and finds nothing but acceptance there, just like he knew he would. Then his demeanor shifts, and his smile has him baring his canines, and just like that the other guy is back and Troy is gulping and biting his lip. Mean Abed’s gaze follows the movement with hawk-like intensity, and he leans in and takes Troy’s lower lip between his teeth himself.

Troy tightens his grip around Abed’s neck, _finally_ burying his hands in those silky black curls, as the bite turns into a bruising kiss. Abed slides his hands from Troy’s waist, past his ass to the backs of his thighs and lifts him roughly; Troy wraps his legs around Abed’s hips and locks his ankles together, and to his credit he only lets out a small whimper the whole time.

The bedroom isn’t far. Something distant in Troy’s mind is somewhat concerned about the logistics of being carried through the house when neither of them are looking where they’re going, but the next thing he knows his back is against the bedroom door, and he’s reaching first down to twist the handle and then to the left to flip the light switch. Abed tosses him onto the mattress and then grabs him by the hips to drag him to the edge of the bed, and it’s fast and dizzying and absolutely intoxicating.

Troy looks up and notes with no small level of satisfaction that Abed looks _wrecked_. His hair is deliciously disheveled; his lips are swollen and his cheeks are flushed. His eyes are at their darkest and most intense - they always are during sex, but now there’s a predatory glint in his eye that sends a shiver down Troy’s spine. Abed tugs once on Troy’s shirt.

“Off,” he commands, and while Troy is wriggling his upper body free Abed is unbuckling Troy’s belt and working his jeans off.

Troy is tossing his shirt off to the side when Abed palms him through his boxers. Troy lets out a strangled cry and slaps his hand over his own mouth, biting his index finger to muffle his sounds.

Abed leans over Troy and grips his wrist firmly, though not painfully, and holds it fast to the bed, taking hold of Troy’s chin with his other hand and hovering his lips just out of reach.

“No,” he breathes. Troy shudders, and his eyes flutter closed. Abed turns Troy’s face to one side, baring his neck, and adds, “I want you loud.”

Abed returns to the hickey he started on Troy’s collarbone, darkening the already bruised skin, before he shifts down to a nipple. Troy whines and tries to buck up, but Abed moves quickly to press Troy’s hips to the bed.

“Behave,” he warns, and kisses across to Troy’s other nipple. Troy whines louder but stills, even as Abed’s tongue swirls patterns across his oversensitive skin.

“Hmm.” Abed lifts his body off of Troy’s, who groans at the loss of pressure but doesn’t move. Abed has the gall to sound smug while Troy battles for his self control. “Very good.”

He presses a kiss to Troy’s sternum and straightens, squeezing Troy’s knee almost sympathetically.

“Don’t move.” Abed walks to the nightstand on Troy’s side of the bed, and Troy hears items shuffling around in the drawer for a few moments before he realizes what the delay is and inwardly curses himself.

When Abed speaks, he’s not completely out of character, but not entirely in it either.

“I didn’t think we were out of that lube you really like,” he muses. Troy sighs.

“You were gone a long time,” he admits. “I missed you.”

There’s a beat.

His eyes open in surprise when Abed kisses him, more softly this time, twisting awkwardly over the side of the bed to do so.

“Was it as good as the real thing?” Abed traces the curve of Troy’s cheekbone with his knuckle; Troy shivers.

“No.”

Abed hums and stands again, crossing to his own nightstand to retrieve the backup there. Troy hears the pop of the cap, becoming captivated by the movement of Abed’s fingers warming the solution onto both hands. Abed returns to the foot of the bed and bends to kiss the curve of Troy’s hipbone. He pulls at Troy’s boxers, prompting him to lift his hips so they can be tossed aside with the rest of his clothes.

Abed straightens, and once again he’s fully immersed in the role; Troy suddenly realizes with a thrill that he’s very naked and very hard, and Abed, though mussed, hasn’t so much as taken off his shoes. He feels vulnerable in the best of ways.

Abed wraps his warm hand around Troy’s length, drawing a long, gratified moan, and strokes him once, slowly and with perfect pressure. He then drops his hand lower, kisses Troy’s knee, and presses a finger inside, waiting until Troy exhales and relaxes before he begins to stretch him. His other hand trails Troy’s sensitive inner thigh, scraping lightly with his nails, moving up to rub the head of his cock with his thumb. By the time they’ve worked up to three fingers, Abed’s found his prostate and Troy is begging--

“ _Abed,_ please, plea- _fuck,_ Abed, please, I promise I’ll be g- _ahh--”_

“You promise what?” Abed says, equal parts intense and amused. Cocky asshole.

“Anything,” Troy breathes, meeting Abed’s eyes with his own wide, glazed stare.

“Turn over,” Abed says suddenly, pulling his fingers out mercilessly. He unbuckles his own belt, strokes himself a couple of times to distribute the rest of the lube. Troy keens and rolls onto his knees.

“Abed,” Troy starts--

Abed enters him fully and without delay, and Troy _sobs_.

“Fuck,” Abed sighs appreciatively, pressing a kiss to his spine. He holds Troy’s back tightly to his chest, tangles the fingers of their left hands together, and begins to move. Troy clutches his hand, their wedding bands clinking together, and drops his head to rest on the bed.

“Abed,” Troy gasps, but his voice is muffled. The pace Abed sets is relentless, exhilarating; he knows by Troy’s shout when he’s found his prostate, and the intensity with which he targets it turns Troy’s limbs weak. He is spilling unintelligible sounds into the bedspread, slumping deeper into the mattress.

“Louder,” comes the hiss in his ear. Troy makes a sound he’s pretty sure Dean Pelton used to make at Jeff a lot, and then quickly banishes all thoughts of either of them from his sex life; he turns his face as much as he can from the comforter to try to catch his breath, try to make Abed happy, but he can’t quite get enough air - the angle is too deep, the pace is too punishing.

Without warning, Abed pulls out. Troy whimpers, but doesn’t have time to protest - Abed flips him onto his back and descends again, seating himself back inside Troy swiftly, sharply. He swallows Troy’s moans with a consuming kiss, slides his hand beneath Troy’s head and holds him firmly in place by the back of his neck. His other hand sneaks beneath Troy to support his lower back, pushes him up into the perfect angle.

“Pretty boy,” he rasps. Troy gasps and releases an absolutely filthy sound, clawing desperately at Abed’s back, shoulders, the bedsheets. Every one of Abed’s thrusts hit home now, and he has the nerve to laugh darkly as Troy’s eyes roll back and he releases a breathless stream of _Abed, Abed, Abed_.

“Who do you belong to?” Abed murmurs arrogantly in his ear. Troy nearly comes from the question alone and has to use the last of his self control not to do so.

“You,” he sobs.

“That’s right.” Abed’s hand moves away from his back to grip Troy’s cock. He mouths at Troy’s neck, begins to pump him in time with his thrusts, nips his earlobe. He pulls back and fixes Troy with a look so hungry, so possessive, that Troy thinks he may die from this. Abed waits for Troy’s breath to hitch in that special way, a telltale sign he’s on the precipice--

“Mine,” he says, and Troy’s vision goes white as he careens over the edge. He thinks he screams. He thinks he feels Abed coming with him, too.

When he eventually comes back to himself, he’s panting and clutching Abed’s sweater so tightly his knuckles hurt. The remnants of pleasure make the world feel heady and magical; his body buzzes lightly with tired satisfaction.

Abed is breathing hard too, sweating under all his layers. He’s wholly himself now, pressing kisses to Troy’s face, seeking out eye contact once it’s apparent Troy is more grounded.

“Are you okay?” Abed’s hand behind his head has relaxed and he’s now rubbing soothing circles into Troy’s neck with his thumb.

“Yeah.” Troy tugs at the sweater - noticing for the first time that it really _is_ that soft - and Abed gets the hint. He pulls back and balances on one hand, pulling the sweater overhead before switching his support to the other side and tossing it across the room. Troy immediately begins unbuttoning the shirt below for him, sighing faintly at the sight of Abed’s skin, slick with sweat.

Once he’s been freed of his button up, Abed leans back in to kiss Troy ever so softly, reverently. Troy melts into it, tangles his fingers in Abed’s hair, wraps an arm around his back to keep him close. Abed cups Troy’s face like he’s the most treasured person in his world. Troy just pulls him closer.

Abed is the one to break the kiss.

“I should move,” he says apologetically. Troy nods. Abed pecks him lightly on the forehead and pulls out as carefully as possible, wincing in sympathy at Troy’s groan.

Abed cleans them both as quickly as possible, pausing only to lick delicately at Troy’s rim until Troy whines, oversensitive, and waves a hand in Abed’s general direction. Abed smiles, and while it’s a teasing one, it’s still distinctly like himself; he kicks his shoes and pants off before he climbs back onto the bed to lie on his side next to Troy. He props himself up on one elbow, absently playing with Troy’s hair, and doesn’t seem surprised when he’s pushed onto his back moments later so Troy can burrow into his side.

“That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me,” Troy mumbles into Abed’s collarbone.

“I’m glad. I liked it a lot too.”

“Yeah?”

“Hmm. Yeah. That was a really fun character for me, even if he needs developing. I’ll need some Dreamatorium time to get a better handle on him.”

Troy raises his head to look at Abed skeptically.

“He seemed to have a pretty good handle on things from where I was sitting.”

Abed laughs in a way that makes something deep in Troy’s chest clench. Troy snakes his arm across Abed’s chest and holds him closer.

“Does he have a name?”

Abed considers this. He runs his fingers lightly up and down Troy’s ribs; Troy can see him mentally deconstruct the narrative they created today. It’s endearing to watch.

“I haven’t given him one. Any ideas?”

“Too sleepy,” Troy decides, burying his face back into Abed’s shoulder. “Tomorrow is idea time.”

They’re quiet for a little while, adrenaline slowly replaced by exhaustion. Troy’s eyelids start to feel contentedly heavy and he lets himself float for a bit, a step above dozing. It’s during this that he begins to reflect on the day they’ve just had.

“Hey Abed,” Troy says, breaking the comfortable silence. Abed gives him his full attention immediately, and it makes Troy feel wobbly in the best way. “How did you know that I wanted you to stay in character today?”

“Well, I didn’t set out with that goal,” Abed says. “You aren’t exactly subtle. You seemed… interested, during the shoot. I assumed we’d figure out the character together, but you were distracted almost instantly. I was surprised by how effective it was.”

Troy groans mildly. He’s way too easily excited.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “They made you even hotter. I couldn’t handle it.”

“I didn’t mind,” Abed replies. “Anyway, you seemed very interested in continuing so I just kind of went with it.”

“Well, it worked out awesome.” Troy closes his eyes again for a moment. A few beats pass.

“Troy?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s the logic behind him being mean to you?”

Troy opens his eyes and tilts his head to study Abed’s face. He doesn’t seem worried, per se, and Troy knows he wouldn’t have gone through with it if he didn’t feel right about it, but he can tell it’s something that should be addressed to avoid any future possibilities of miscommunication trope. Their marriage is built upon avoiding that most frustrating of cliches.

“Well, I originally brought it up because the character was too similar to you, and the most opposite thing from you I could think of was somebody who’s really mean for no reason.”

“I see. People tell me I’m rude pretty often though,” Abed reasons.

“Those people don’t understand you. Besides, there’s a difference between telling the truth and people getting offended by it versus actively being an asshole to people for your own enjoyment. You would never do that second one.”

“That’s fair.” Abed nods.

“As for me being into it.” Troy takes a moment to plan out the way he wants to say this. “I didn’t really know why I liked it so much at the beginning. I love you as you are and that’s not how I see you at all. But I think as the night went on I realized it was because the idea of somebody who doesn’t like other people and who’s a total dick to everyone still wanting you is, uh. Nice. Makes me feel special, like- like you’ll always want me no matter what. Also, I know you censor yourself a lot for other people, so seeing you so free of inhibitions was cool, even if you were in character.”

Abed smiles that smile that makes Troy feel like a popsicle on an August sidewalk. Troy can’t help but tighten his grip and squeeze impossibly closer.

“That makes sense,” Abed says quietly. “I’m glad you told me that.”

“Thank you,” Troy whispers. “For indulging me.”

“Always.”

Troy feels like he could doze off any second. He tucks his head under Abed’s chin and lets himself start to slip.

“Troy,” Abed says softly.

“Yeah, Abed?” Troy’s voice is muffled.

“You know how much I miss you when I’m gone, right?”

Troy stills for a moment. He eventually breaks the silence with a slow inhale.

“I know. Just because I’m sad you’re gone doesn’t mean I think you don’t care.”

“Okay. Good.”

“Abed?”

“Yeah?”

“Does it bother you when I get a little, um… clingy? When you come back?”

“No. I like making you feel wanted.”

“Okay, good.”

“I love you.” Abed shifts his palm up to rub Troy’s shoulder soothingly.

“I know.” Troy presses a kiss to Abed’s neck and snuggles back in.

Abed hums softly until Troy’s breaths have evened out and then begins to drift himself.

\---

They make love the next morning, too. It’s softer this time, more of a reunion.

Abed is sitting at the kitchen counter with his laptop and Special Drink in a coffee mug when Troy comes out of their bedroom, freshly showered, wearing nothing but boxers and the blue sweater. Abed smiles and points to the second mug waiting on the counter. Troy hugs him from behind, rests his chin on Abed’s shoulder to look at the early critic reviews Steph has forwarded him. They read together in silence for a few moments before Troy nods and moves towards the cereal cabinet.

“I knew they’d like it,” he says, half drowned out by the _ting_ of Lucky Charms hitting a bowl.

“The toughest critics aren’t going to be the ones from Hollywood,” Abed replies. “We’ll have to wait for the remaining Greendale Four.”

“If they don’t like it, I’ll kill ‘em,” Troy says, wielding his spoon threateningly at the air. He slides the bowl towards Abed and starts pouring his own.

“There’s the sequel,” Abed jokes, closing his laptop and pulling his cereal closer.

They eat in companionable quiet for a few minutes. Troy catches himself rubbing the sweater sleeve between his pointer finger and thumb, and looks up to see Abed watching him quizzically.

“Hey,” he says, leaning his weight onto the counter, “How did you actually get away with keeping these clothes yesterday?”

“Oh. The stylist ended up being Paula, the wardrobe lady from my first AD gig at NBC. I asked her if I could buy them off her.” Abed shrugs. “She always liked both of us. I told her it was for you and she said ‘yes’ immediately.”

“I’ve got to send that woman an Edible Arrangement or something.”

“You know,” Abed says around a mouthful of Lucky Charms, swallowing before he continues, “She gave me an extra piece too.”

Troy’s eyes widen. “Extra? What and where?”

“I’m sure it’ll come out eventually,” Abed says evasively. Troy throws a marshmallow at him.

\---

The photo they choose for the cover is one of Troy’s favorites. Abed has one foot on the ground, one on the lower rung of the stool; his hands are in his pockets, and he’s smiling at someone off to the right. The title reads:

**IN CONVERSATION WITH ABED NADIR: The Creator of** **_Police Justice_ ** **Discusses Bold New Film,** **_The Greendale Seven_ **

The day the interview is released, Jeff sends a photo of the cover to the group chat.

_jeff, 10:41am_

_who the fuck is this and what have they done with our Abed???_

_shirley, 10:50am_

_Language please, Jeffrey! :)_

_britta-bot, 10:59am_

_don draper???!!??1!???_

_troy, 11:33am_

_nah, someone better._

\---

_The Greendale Seven_ premieres three weeks later. They both wear sharp suits to the event. Abed changes into the red sweater for the afterparty.

They leave after ten minutes.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr @nadir-barnes.


End file.
